The Princess and The Tormented
by Alecks the Ninja
Summary: Ulquiorra is a teenage high school student with a cool demeanor and more than enough problems at home. Orihime is girl with a bright spirit and a dark past. Can the two help each other find peace? Rated M for language and various explict content.ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings for this chapter: light groping, implied sexual themes, slight alcohol use**

**Chapter One**

He was tired—exhausted to be exact. His parents refused to stop fighting, and it was already two in the morning. Did they not _care _that their room was right next to his? Did they not _care_ that he had school in six hours? Apparently not.

The pale boy rolled over for what felt like the thousandth time, pulling his pillow over his head to try to block the sound of his mother's shrieking and what must have been yet another vase being broken as it was thrown at the wall. He'd lost track of how many times they'd stopped, as if to catch their breath and find more fuel for their argument, before starting back up again at full volume. They _had _to be keeping up their neighbors, or at least he hoped they were so he wouldn't be the only one.

With a barely audible sigh, he rolled out of bed and slipped on a shirt and socks, not bothering to change out of his old, ratty sweatpants. He slid his door open just enough to ascertain that his parents' door was indeed shut before quietly made his way down the stairs, remembering to jump over the loose one that creaked because his father had refused to call a carpenter to fix it. At the front door, he hurriedly laced his shoes, but didn't open the door. Instead, he pushed the window open and swiftly crawled out.

If he wasn't going to get any sleep that night anyway, there was no need to spend that time listening to two grown adults squabble like kids over something that was most likely as little as leaving the toilet seat up.

* * *

><p>His parents were going to get divorced—that, of course, was obvious—the only question was when they were going to finally see that it was the right solution. This had been going on for far too long, long enough for him to form an unhealthy addiction to coffee and bars.<p>

At the bar he frequented, the manager had told its employees to stop bothering with trying to kick him out because he was underage; he knew that he was going to come in there anyway, and it wasn't like he was drinking—well, he was, but only a shot every blue moon when his parents decided to bring him into one of their quarrels and try to get him to take sides. He could handle listening, but being in the middle of it was too much.

He ran a long, white finger around the rim of his mug, wrinkling his nose at the smell of root beer. He hated root beer; why had he even order this?

"Why the long face, kid?"

He glanced up to see the bartender, a man with long, bright red hair that was always in a ponytail and tribal tattoos covering what was probably every inch of his body, staring down at him with a curiously raised eyebrow as he dried a steaming mug clean with a ruddy dishtowel. He didn't answer, didn't really see the need to answer, and returned to staring blankly at the disgusting drink he'd ordered. He wished the man would just go away. He didn't really feel like faking a friendly conversation with anyone tonight—or technically, this morning.

"Aw, c'mon," the bartender pressed, "I promise I won't tell anyone. I may not look like it, but I'm really good at keeping secrets—HEY! WE HAVE ROOMS FOR THAT! DON'T DO IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCEFLOOR!" He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Damned exhibitionists" under his breath before turning his attention back to the expressionless boy in front of him. "So, still not gonna talk, eh? Man, you'd make a terrible bartender." He grinned to show that he was kidding, but it faltered a bit when the boy's wide green eyes burned into him with _Go Away_ practically written all over his face.

"Renji! Are you harassing one of our regulars? That's not very good for business."

The bartender, who must have been Renji, scratched the back of his head and glanced away, a slightly embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "I was just tryin' to get the kid to talk. He comes in here almost every night and never says anything to anyone other than to order his drinks."

A blonde man with a striped green and white hat, a fan—which the boy noticed that he never went anywhere without—and wooden clogs that made noise with every step he made strolled over, his face half-hidden by the fan. "Ulquiorra," he said, turning to the teen that was still eying Renji with cold annoyance, "it's pretty late; don't you think you should be getting home? After all, you do need your rest for school."

Ulquiorra's eyes flickered to the man addressing him, holding his gaze for a short moment before throwing some bills on the counter and rising from his seat with quiet thank you.

Always remember your manners and don't let your emotions take over, his mother had told him, no matter how crappy you feel inside. It was probably the only good advice either parent had ever given him.

* * *

><p>Ulquiorra hated English class. It wasn't so much the class he hated, but rather the idiotic girl behind him that thought it was okay to play with his hair when the teacher wasn't looking. The first time she'd done this, he'd asked her politely to stop his eyes never deviating from the whiteboard. The second time, he'd turned to stare icily at her, to which she only winked and used her arms to jiggle her ridiculously large breasts. The third time he'd reached back and caught her hand, tightening his grip in warning before letting go. She'd stopped for maybe a day or two before it started up again. When he'd raised his hand to request a new seat because of it, the teacher only grinned and said that she was only flirting with him, that girls liked young men with long dark hair and mysterious silence. Ulquiorra had never wanted to kill anyone as much as he'd wanted to kill Professor Ichimaru that day.<p>

"Psst," the annoying girl said. "Heeyy, Ulqui. I wanna ask you something."

Ulquiorra considered ignoring her—honestly, nothing would make him happier—but he knew that if he did, she'd just keep bugging him and bugging him. So he turned his head slightly toward her. "What?" he said flatly, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"I wanna know if you wanna sit with me and my friends at lunch." Even without looking at her, Ulquiorra could hear that smile that had broken so many other men's hearts in her voice. "It'll be fuuun," she sang quietly. Ulquiorra pictured her wiggling in her seat so that her boobs moved (the idiotic brunette sitting next to him stared with a goofy grin, earning a book to the face from her).

Ulquiorra turned back around to the front with a resolute "No". And then he thought of something. "And my name is Ulquiorra. I would rather you not shorten it or call me anything other than my name."

There was a huff from behind him, and he knew she was pouting. It was always how she got what she wanted, and it would have definitely worked on any man that was not him.

"Mista Shiffar, since ya seem ta have sa much ta talk about, why don'tcha share yer conversation wit' tha resta the class?"

Ulquiorra was itching to kill both his teacher and that irksome girl whose name he could never seem to remember.

* * *

><p>Most students enjoyed their lunch time. They got to take a small break from classes (the ones that weren't using this period to do their homework from last night, at least), and they had time to catch up with friends they didn't get to see during the rest of the day. It was especially good for people that loved the outdoors—and food. But Ulquiorra was not most students. He detested his lunch period almost as much as he hated the hallways in between classes. Almost. He loathed the loud, obnoxious jocks that seemed to think they ran the school, and their so-called "perfect" cheerleader girlfriends. He wanted to kick the nerds that were easily frazzled by getting an A- on an assignment. He hated them all. He even hated his lunch, as it was always packed haphazardly by his mother that could never seem to remember that he didn't like buying his lunch—or bologna.<p>

But the one thing he hated the most was the people that had the audacity to come up and try to talk to him. As if he'd ever bother with trash like them. It never failed to piss him off, and today was no different.

As he was shuffling across the courtyard to the tree that every subconsciously knew to be marked as _his_, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He stiffened stopped walking, making the girl run into him with a small "Oof," her breasts somewhat cushioning the impact (he may not look like it, but Ulquiorra was rather hard and muscled). He didn't turn to look at her, and from the way she immediately started babbling, he figured that she knew he wasn't going to.

As she talked, she fussed over his shirt, smoothing out wrinkles and picking off stray hair, until he caught her wrist to stop her. Not letting that discourage her, she continued to chatter merely, not seeming to care that he was obviously not listening. Or maybe she was just stupid enough to not notice—Ulquiorra had to admit, by the way she was acting, it was a pretty big possibility.

"Hey, did you even hear what I just said?" Possibility: proven. Ulquiorra leaned away, as she had decided to capture his attention by getting right in his face, not leaving him any other options for his eyes to wander.

He noticed that he had never seen her before; she was nearly his height with long, flowing orange hair (it reminded him of a carrot), and big, gentle, sincere gray eyes with thick black lashes. Ulquiorra saw her as the overly-enthusiastic type that was almost impossible to discourage; to an extent, he admired her (usually these type of people had a strong will that so many others sadly lacked). That is, until he looked down and saw her chest. Before he could stop himself, he scowled. She reminded him too much of that girl…what was her name again?

"No, I'm afraid I did not hear you." He did not, however, invite her to repeat it. But, which really didn't surprise him, she did anyway.

"I said I should probably apologize for my cousin. She can get a bit out of control when she flirts with guys she…Anyway"—she chose that moment to change the subject—"I wanted to know if you wanted to sit with us today, since she apparently didn't do a good job of persuading you." And then, she smiled at him. A real smile, not one of those, come-hither-because-I-want-to-get-in-your-pants smiles, but a genuine, warm, friendly smile.

He didn't respond, just stared into her pleading eyes unblinkingly.

She only seemed slightly disappointed, that little twinkle that had been in her eyes when she first approached going out like a light and her bottom lip poking out infinitesimally. "Well…maybe next time!" She skipped off with an "Enjoy the rest of your lunch!"

Ulquiorra uncharacteristically found himself watching her go, noticing how her hair seemed to bounce after her and the way her skirt swayed around her thighs. And then his eyes roamed over what was her rather large group of friends. She immediately ran to a girl with spiky black hair, nearly tackling her with an overjoyed hug. Next to the raven haired girl was that irritating girl from his English class. When she noticed him looking, she winked and waved. His eyes quickly shifted to pouting boy with snow white hair next to her that barely came up to her waist, and then to the pair of next to him, one bald and irritable, the other dark-haired and obviously pompous. The four-man scene next to him was so odd that Ulquiorra was surprised he didn't notice it sooner: at what was most likely the heart of scene was a scowling boy with bright orange hair that he recognized as Ichigo Kurosaki, who was trying in vain to fight off the two boys on his arms that were obviously arguing over him: Grimmjow Jeagerjaques—an obnoxious boy with a feral grin, vibrant blue hair and more muscle than brain—and a skinny blonde with shoulder length hair that he didn't know. Tugging insistently on the blonde with a wide grin of his own was Nnoitora Jiruga—a tall, lanky boy with long black hair and an eye patch covering his left eye; Ulquiorra remembered wondering why he was wearing it when they'd first met. As he watched, two more boys, the brunette that had received a book to the face in his English class and another with black hair whose eyes were glued to his cell phone screen, strolled up, getting their respective grins and hellos from everyone in the group. The members of the group were so different from each other that Ulquiorra found himself wondering what their story was, how they'd met and what bonded them so closely together. It seemed like a couple of them were related—the two orange-haired girls with the giant boobs apparently—and that maybe some were even dating, but he could have just been making something out of nothing; maybe they were just that close and had grown up together or something.

Ulquiorra blinked. What was he doing trying to figure them out? What did he care about them? Absolutely nothing. He made an about face and swiftly made his way to his tree, not at all liking the strange glances he was receiving from his peers.

After a visit by the grocery store that took much long that he would have liked, Ulquiorra walked down his street, noticing that the sun was beginning to set. His father wouldn't be happy; he liked him home right after school, and Ulquiorra had reason to believe that his mother hadn't informed him about his errand. After a fight, it was usually a while before they talked to each other again. He sighed. No matter how much he tried to remain neutral, he somehow always managed to get pulled into their messes anyway. And all he'd wanted to do was go home, do his homework and fall asleep before the fighting started back up—he was still tired from trying to stay awake all day at school; he would eat dinner later.

* * *

><p>"Ulquiorra!"<p>

He sighed again. Oh this night was just getting worse and worse.

….

_Ulquiorra sat cross-legged on his floor, rolling his toy firetruck around with the ghost of a happy smile on his eight-year-old face. It was the day after his birthday, and he was ecstatic that his parents had dropped all their plans—even called in from work—just to spend the day with him. It had made him feel special, wanted. They'd even bought him everything he'd asked for: a new television, a gaming system, a few new toy trucks, and that movie he'd been asking for for over a month._

_He had begun to laugh joyously, lying leisurely on his back, when there was a knock on his door and his mother stepped into his room. She smiled down at him, and for a moment, he smiled back. That was when he noticed the small, pink-haired boy in front of her._

_Ulquiorra could immediately sense that something was off with this boy, and he didn't know if it was the almost cold, calculating look in his golden eyes or the wide, creepy grin that was plastered on his face, or the way he had his arms behind his back as if he had something to hide, but either way, it made him squirm uncomfortably. _

"_Ulquiorra, dear," his mother spoke to him in that voice that she always used when she was trying to pacify him—confirming that she, too, knew that something was strange about the child whose shoulders her hands were resting on, "this is—"_

"_Szayel Apporo Granz," the boy said, speaking over Ulquiorra's mother as he shrugged out from under her touch to saunter over to where Ulquiorra was still lying down. He held out a hand, his grin widening._

_Ulquiorra cautiously sat up straight and shook it, his large green eyes never leaving Szayel's cool golden ones. The hand shake was short, and Ulquiorra let go as soon as he thought it was polite. They simply stared at each other for a while until Ulquiorra's mother cleared her throat and continued._

"_Szayel and his family just moved into the house across the street. His parents and your father and I thought that it would be a good idea for you two to play together, since he's new and your friend moved to England last summer. You two are both loners that could use a friend." She turned and began to close the door behind her. "Have fun!"_

_When the door shut, Ulquiorra went back to playing with his firetruck, paying no attention to his guest, who was glancing around his room and grimacing in distaste. When he was finished with his observations, he returned to gazing intently at the side of Ulquiorra's head. Ulquiorra, of course, felt Szayel's eyes burning a hole in his temple, but he didn't feel inclined to meet them. Suddenly, he felt the odd boy come closer, and there was a short, sharp pain in his head._

_His hand flew up to the site of the crime. "What are you doing?"_

"_My apologies, but there was a hair on your head that was shorter than all the others. It was bothering me."_

_Ulquiorra only blinked at the smiling boy before returning to what he had been doing. But then, in a flash of pink hair and white, Szayel was in his face, studying him with a mask of concentration. Thankfully, he wasn't grinning. When Ulquiorra thought that the staring contest had gone on long enough, he turned away in favor of rolling his ball at the wall, making sure it always came back to him._

_There was an indignant huff, and then a finger was poking him in the side of his head._

"_Don't you know that it's rather rude to ignore your guests?" Szayel questioned snootily._

"_I don't really care," Ulquiorra replied emotionlessly._

_He was once again surprised when a thin pair of arms wrapped around his neck, and suddenly the unwanted boy was sitting in his lap. _

"_I like you," Szayel whispered in his ear. "You're my new best friend."_

"_I don't want to be your new best friend."_

_A lilting laugh sounded in Ulquiorra's ear. "I don't really care," the boy said, throwing Ulquiorra's words back at him._

_Ulquiorra scowled. One thing was for sure: he did _not_ like Szayel Apporo Granz._

….

Ulquiorra simply ignored the sing-songy voice calling out to him, shifting all of the bags to one hand so he could dig around in his pocket to find his house key.

He wasn't really surprised when he felt an arm snake around his shoulders and cool whisper was at his ear. "You know that I don't take very kindly to being ignored, Ulqui. Why do you like hurting my feelings?"

Ulquiorra's only answer was to knock the arm away and continue to fish out his key. Once it was found, he unlocked his door.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me inside?" the jovial voice asked.

"No."

The other boy pouted. "That's not very nice. Besides, your parents love me…and I love you." A hand wormed its way into the back Ulquiorra's pants, making him jump and blush.

"Don't touch me," Ulquiorra snapped.

To his annoyance, Ulquiorra's mother chose that moment to come down the stairs, her gardening outfit on, her apron already spattered with dirt and mud. "Oh, Ulquiorra, dear, you got the groceries for me. Thank you so much." He eyes shifted to his shoulder, were the head of their neighbor was resting with a bright grin on his face. "Oh, Szayel!" her face brightened considerably at the sight of her son's favorite "friend". "Long time no see! You've gotten so handsome as you grew up. Look at you; you're glowing!"

Ulquiorra scoffed quietly. He was sure that Szayel's glow had less to do with "growth and handsomeness" than it did with the hand that was groping his backside through his boxers.

"Why thank you, Mrs. Shiffar. Might I say that you're looking rather beautiful yourself? Have you done something different with your hair?"

To Ulquiorra's disgust, his mother blushed and patted her head self-consciously. "Well, I decided to dye it back to my original color, yes."

Szayel's grin widened. "It's lovely."

Mrs. Shiffar flushed again before turning to go into the kitchen throwing a, "Let him in, Ulquiorra, and tell him he can stay for dinner if he wants!"

Ulquiorra scowled again, stiffening when he felt a bold hand slide around to his front to fondle his package. He snatched the hand out of his pants. "Do. Not. Touch. Me."

He then stomped his way into the kitchen to set the groceries on the counter; his mother preferred to put them away herself. Szayel followed him, and amused smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Ulquiorra noticed that he was a bit too close for comfort and turned to stare at him icily.

"I don't want you in my house," he said menacingly, his eyes narrowing into a distasteful glare. "If my mother wasn't so stupidly gaga over you, you would have never made it through the front door. I don't want you within three feet of me, and my bedroom door will stay open for the duration of your visit, so don't try anything, or there _will_ be consequences. Understood?"

Szayel's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he managed to keep his smile in place as he nodded his agreement. Ulquiorra began to walk up the stairs, and he waited until he was halfway to the top before following him. Of course he didn't plan to obey any such commands, but he could get around those later; right now, he needed to lull his prey into a false sense of security—something he always did, but that the pale, dark-haired beauty always fell for anyway. Sometimes he wondered if Ulquiorra was really as smart as he seemed. He paused when he saw the pale, dark-haired boy freeze before giving a polite bow. Szayel rolled his eyes. That could only mean one thing.

"Good evening, Otōsama," Ulquiorra said, his voice polite on the surface, but Szayel could feel the tension and fear rolling off of the teen in nearly palpable waves; his shoulders were stiff, his back steely rigid, and his voice trembled slightly.

Szayel had never understood why Ulquiorra was so obedient and submissive to his father or why he addressed him so formally. Of course, it was understandable to have respect for the man that had stepped in and cared for him since birth when his biological father had died during his mother's pregnancy, admirable, even, but this—this was just too much. But maybe that was because Szayel had never had much patience with his own parents; maybe if he were to have Ulquiorra's parents things would be rather different. He was actually quite sure that he would rather have them instead of his own.

"And good evening to you as well, Ulquiorra…"—he glanced over his son's shoulder—"…Szayel." Szayel nodded in acknowledgement but didn't respond. Ulquiorra's father's face darkened a bit, but he otherwise ignored Szayel's lack of manners. "Have you seen your mother, Ulquiorra? I need to have a word with her."

"She went out to the—"

"Front yard to do some gardening," Ulquiorra said, standing straight at once and speaking over Szayel, who raised a perfectly sculpted brow but didn't comment on Ulquiorra's outburst.

A small, mocking smile tugged at the brunette man's lips—both teens knew he had seen right through his son's feeble lie—before quietly thanking the raven haired boy and brushing past his son and his friend, leaving the air thick and cool in his wake.

Szayel watched him go and then turned back to Ulquiorra curiously. "Care to tell me what that was about?"

Ulquiorra didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge that he had been spoken to, and walked rather quickly up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Szayel stood there for a moment with pursed lips, wondering if he should follow. And then with a grin, he slithered up the stairs and slid into the obviously furious teen's room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. This was going to be fun.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: First of all, I'd like to say that due to a rather rude review that I recieved that I'm thinking of discontinuing _Unwanting Lovers Love the Hardest _for a little while. I'm really sorry, but I don't take critiscim very well (I know you're probably thinking, "then why become a writer?" Answer: because I find enjoyment in writing, not in insults), and for that person to completely trash something I cared so strongly about kind of shattered any spirit I had for the story. I'm not saying that I won't ever come back to it, but it will be a long while before I regain the confidence to.**

**So for now, enjoy this story and my other _From the Diary of Izuru Kira_, which are the only two I'll be working on.**

**And another thing: Otōsan means dad, but since Aizen is such an egotistical jerk, I made it Otōsama instead. It is okay to do that, right? Correct me if I'm wrong. :)**

**-Burns**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings for this chapter: **yaoi (boyxboy), a steamy scene that could be debatable as smut, language, mild violence, and a little OOC on Orihime's and Rangiku's part (but honestly, I needed Rangiku to be a self-centered bitch and Orihime to be irritable and feisty in this chapter; it made it flow better.)

**Chapter Two**

"I'm gonna win."

"Psssh, yeah right; no offense, but you really suck at this game, Keigo." Keigo's mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprised hurt, and the controller slipped out of his hands and landed on the floor with a soft _thud_, giving Ichigo the opening that he hadn't really needed to beat his friend once again by blowing his head off. As a result, Keigo began to sputter incoherently through a sea of tears.

Orihime giggled joyfully from the couch where she was lounging with her head in Rangiku's lap and her feet in Tatsuki's. She always loved it when her friends came for an impromptu visit, and today was no different. Muzuiro always brought food and his Xbox; Shinji always brought music; Rangiku brought whatever she could use to torment the boys (besides her overlarge chest), and Ichigo and Keigo brought movies (although no one ever cared to watch Keigo's, much to the brunette's sadness and irritation). Everyone else just showed up, and their friends were just fine with that; if everyone brought something, they'd have more stuff than they knew what to do with.

Nnoitora, who had been trying to coax a loudly protesting Shinji into his lap, finally glanced up at the overemotional teen in annoyance. "Yo, will ya shut the fuck up and quit blubberin' like a damn baby?" However, his words only made Keigo wail louder, and Shinji swatted at him, telling him he was being an asshole. "Tch."

Ichigo, also fed up with his boisterous friend, growled and kicked Keigo in the face, knocking him out and effectively shutting him up. A collective, relieved sigh ran around the room.

But Orihime sat up so fast that her head spun. "Oh, Ichigo…you didn't have to kick him _that_ hard, did you?" She rushed over to find his nose bleeding, and a nasty bruise starting to take form just below his right eye. However, other than that, he looked rather peaceful. She bustled into the bathroom and through the kitchen, coming back with a warm, moist towel and a homemade icepack. She dabbed gently at the blood before pinching the nostrils to stop the flow. She then pressed icepack to his cheek to slow the swelling.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, tugging Ichigo back against his chest (Ichigo made himself comfortable and closed his eyes in contentment). "You know, for someone that can't remember her parents, you sure do act a lot like a mom."

Orihime smiled warmly. "I haven't forgotten them completely; I can still remember what they looked like…." She let the sentence trail off, her hands slackening.

Everyone stared at her, wondering what was going to happen next. Orihime hardly ever talked about her family, and if she ever did, it was only when someone asked her directly about it; she was never the one to broach the subject.

Suddenly, Tatsuki jumped up, tossing the DVDs she had been looking at down on the couch behind her. "Honestly," she started in a playfully annoyed tone, "Ichigo, do you or Keigo not own _any_ movies besides these? I swear you guys bring the exact same ones every time." She smiled, and everyone realized that she was trying to lighten the mood. It worked—effectively.

Keigo sat up with such quickness that it made Orihime scream, her hand flying to her chest where her heart was beating a mile a minute. His nose started to bleed again, but he either didn't notice, or didn't care enough to acknowledge it. "Well then maybe _you _should bring the movies from now on, Tatsuki!"

Tatsuki leaned toward him, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "Well then maybe I will!"

"Fine!"

Everyone else fell into their usual almost-friendly banter, and Orihime relaxed, laughing every now and then at some of the arguments.

"'Himeeee," Rangiku whined from the kitchen almost an hour later.

Orihime glanced up. "Hmm?"

Rangiku nearly stomped out into the living room, an adorable pout on her face. "You're out of popcorn again."

"Maybe that's because people like you are always eating it," Grimmjow said with a grin.

"Oh shut up. You eat more than I do. I'm surprised you're not the size of a hippo."

Grimmjow glared at her for a short moment before his attention was recaptured by an irritated Ichigo.

Satisfied that she'd "won" the glaring contest, Rangiku turned back to Orihime, her hands on her hips. "Well," she demanded, "why are you just sitting there?" Orihime raised her eyebrows in confusion, and Rangiku rolled her eyes. "We have to go get more popcorn if we're going to watch movies!" She vigorously tugged her cousin up from the couch by her arms, scolding her when she resisted and began to whine.

Orihime knew that when she went anywhere with her flirty, curvaceous cousin that it meant they'd probably be followed home by no less that ten boys that no one either wanted or had room to accommodate. It would most likely end up with Shinji, Ichigo, Grimmjow, and Nnoitora getting into a fight with the strangers, and Orihime wasn't in the mood to have to clean up blood stains.

Seeing her friend's apprehension, Tatsuki patted her on the back. "Don't worry, 'Hime," she said, trying to hold back a snicker. "I'll go with you and help keep Flirty McBigBoobs in check."

Hearing the not-so-appreciated nickname, Rangiku glared at the spiky haired girl and stuck out her tongue childishly. She did not, however, make anymore to physically reprimand her; it wasn't in anyone's best interest to get into a fist fight with Japan's best female fighter.

* * *

><p>Szayel stood by the door, staring at Ulquiorra, who had thrown himself on his bed and pulled his pillow over his head, with rapt curiosity. He had absolutely no idea what was wrong with the pale boy, and he was more than a little curious. He wanted to know why Ulquiorra had lied to his father about his mother, why he was so upset that his father saw right through him. The burning desire to <em>know<em> was gnawing at him, chewing a whole through his cheek…or maybe that was just his teeth. Either way, he was going to find out.

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to pull the pillow away. When that failed, he sighed and dramatically crossed his arms—not that the intended audience would see it. "Ulqui, what's wrong?" he asked. "You know I don't like being in the dark."

Finally, Ulquiorra pulled back to glare at him. "I though I told you not to be within three feet of me?" he said coolly.

Szayel pouted playfully. "You're so mean! Is this the kind of thanks I get for trying to help?" Ulquiorra just stared, and Szayel shook him. "Ulquiiii," he whined, "pleeeasee?"

Ulquiorra only shoved him off the bed and began looking around his room for his biology book, cursing when he didn't find it. He glanced fleetingly at the frowning pink-haired teen on his floor. "Help me find my textbook," he demanded.

Szayel smirked. "Tell me what's going on, and I will," he bargained.

The pale boy paused, regarding the other with cold calculation. "Fine," he finally conceded, "but only if you find it." He sat back down on his bed, watching as the creepy nuisance scoured his room.

Szayel looked over his shoulder at the cocky dark-haired beauty and grinned at the challenge. Ulquiorra obviously believed that he wouldn't find it; he was sadly underestimating him—after all, he'd already gotten around the "leaving the door open" rule.

For a short moment, Ulquiorra continued to watch him search for the textbook he knew wasn't there—he knew because his backpack was nowhere to be seen—but he was quickly bored and instead fell back on the mattress, wondering where on earth his backpack could be.

* * *

><p>"Isn't she getting heavy?"<p>

Orihime frowned and blushed crimson at the implications of that question. "Are you trying to call me fat?" she asked indignantly.

Rangiku glanced at her cousin, who was perched on the back of a hardly winded Tatsuki. She'd been there the entire way to the store. "Of course not," she defended, looking away to scan the aisle signs. "I'm just saying that your huge boobs alone would be enough to break someone's back, but she's carrying the whole thing." She gestured to Orihime's body with a casual wave of her hand.

"Oh!" Orihime huffed, her face reddening even farther. She looked away, obviously upset and rather offended.

Rangiku stopped walking and turned to her, placing her hand on a cocked hip. "Why are you getting so upset?" she demanded.

Tatsuki sighed, wishing she'd never gotten herself into this mess. However, in her defense, the two usually got along just fine. But for some reason, the two seemed especially irritated with each other.

"I'm upset because you're calling me heavy!" Orihime snapped. "How would you feel if I called _you_ heavy?"

Rangiku froze, half-bent to grab a two liter bottle of Coke, and glared at her equally irritated cousin. "Are you calling me fat, 'Hime?"

"See?" Orihime pointed out. "Hurtful, isn't it?"

Rangiku sighed and relaxed, tossing the soda into the shopping cart and went to get the popcorn, Tatsuki following quietly behind her. "Point taken."

As they finally made their way to the register, a black mesh backpack behind the counter caught Orihime's attention. She squinted, trying to decipher the name scrawled on the strap. When she did, she jumped down from her friend's back and pushed her way up to the cashier, apologizing to the annoyed titters behind her.

"Excuse me," she said to the clerk, a petite girl with sea foam green hair, large hazel eyes, and boobs that rivaled hers and Rangiku's. Her name tag read, _Hello, my name is Nel_.

Nel glanced up and smiled gently, not at all irritated that she'd broken in line. "Yes?"

"Um, I know the owner of that backpack," Orihime said quietly, pointing over Nel's shoulder. "We had a lot of homework today, and it will really bother him if he can't get it done."

Nel glanced at the bag in question before reaching for it and handing it to Orihime. "That's so sweet of you," she said kindly.

Orihime thanked the clerk and went back to wait in line with the confused Rangiku and Tatsuki.

"What was that about?" both girls demanded at the same time.

Tatsuki glanced down at the bag in Orihime's hand. "Whose is that?" she asked, pointing at it.

Orihime smiled a bit, trying to hide her blush with her hair. "Ulquiorra."

Rangiku's eyes narrowed. She knew Orihime would never go after someone on her radar, but it still pissed her off to see her cousin—and best friend—blushing while holding the backpack of the boy she liked. She held out her hand. "Let me see it," she commanded.

Orihime made to hand it over, but Tatsuki held out an arm to stop her, glaring at the pushy redhead. "I don't think she should," she snapped. "What are you so upset about? Even if Hime _does_ like him, you know she won't go after him because of you!"

Orihime, who was blushing more than now than ever, tugged on Tatsuki's sleeve. "Please stop, Tatsuki," she asked quietly. "You're making a scene."

It was true; almost everyone within a ten foot radius was staring at them, some with mild interest and others with disgusted annoyance. Tatsuki took a glance around the room, blushed, and then began pulling Orihime toward the door with Orihime staring at her with a confused expression.

"Where are you two going?" Rangiku demanded, not at all bothered by the odd stares; she was used to being stared at by both men and women—look at her, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

Tatsuki didn't even spared her a parting glance as she called over her shoulder, "You pay for the stuff and take it back to Orihime's; we're going to take Ulquiorra his backpack."

The one thing about living in a city as small as Karakura Town was that if someone was known by a lot of people, a lot of people knew where that someone lived. Ulquiorra was that someone.

* * *

><p>Szayel sat back on his heels and pouted. "Ulqui, I think you've sent me on a wild goose chase."<p>

Ulquiorra, who had been lying back on his bed, sat up with a raised brow. "Oh, you've finally figured that out, have you?"

Szayel's eyes narrowed as he stood and sat on the bed next to Ulquiorra; the pale teen fought the urge to shift away from the closeness. Noticing this, Szayel grinned and leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the other's hips. "That wasn't very nice," he purred in his ear.

Ulquiorra turned and green eyes locked with golden ones as they stared each other down. "Whatever you're thinking," Ulquiorra said, his tone flat, "it's not going to work."

"Hmm?" Szayel hummed, his hand shifting closer to Ulquiorra's leg.

Vivid green eyes flashed down to catch the movement, lingering before reverting to their previous target.

They stayed like that for a moment, silent, eyes locked, and Ulquiorra saw the thought form in the golden depths, but before he could stop it, lips were smashed against his and a body was shoving him back onto the bed.

He broke away angrily, gasping for air. "What the hell?" he demanded.

But instead of getting an answer, hands slid up his shirt, caressing the hard abdominal muscles before wandering up to his chest to fondle his nipples.

Ulquiorra's breath hitched, and he grabbed the intruding appendages through his shirt, trying to push them away. Szayel grinned insanely and ground their hips together, earning another strangled gasp. He leaned up and ran his tongue along the shell of a pale ear and then blew on the damp skin; Ulquiorra shivered and bit his lip, stifling a mewl. He wanted to make it stop, to tell Szayel to cut it out and never come through his door again, but he didn't trust his voice; he feared that if he opened his mouth, every sound except the ones he wanted would escape.

"Don't be so stiff," Szayel whispered. "If you do, it won't feel nearly as good."

Suddenly, Ulquiorra's saving grace came; the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell—how cliché. He immediately shoved the unwanted presence away and dashed for the door, wiping sweat from his face as he went. He didn't want to admit it but…that had actually felt…somewhat nice, not that he was gay in any sense of the word.

The doorbell rang again as he was coming down the stairs, and he wondered disdainfully where his parents were. He pulled open the door, and to say that he was surprised would have been an understatement.

Before him stood that big chested girl from lunch—had she even told him her name? He couldn't remember—and her spiky-haired friend that he knew to be named Tatsuki from his math class.

He straightened his face back into his expressionless mask. "What?"

The redhead shifted her weight nervously, looking up at him through her fringe of black lashes. "Um…you left this…at the grocery store," she said quietly, holding up his missing backpack.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he reached out to take it from her. But before his hand could make contact, he felt cool fingers messing with the tail of his shirt and cool breath tickled his ear, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

He slapped the hand away and stared at Szayel, who grinned back, unfazed by the subtle hostility radiating from the other man. Szayel wrapped both his arms around the pale boy's thin waist, resting his chin on his shoulders.

"I think you should introduce me to your friends, Ulqui," he sang in a sugary-sweet voice.

"No." Ulquiorra snapped. Not only because he didn't want anyone that went to his school anywhere near the madman, but because they weren't really his friends; after all, he didn't have friends.

Szayel pouted. "Aw, why not? I promise I won't bite…them." He smirked suggestively, and Ulquiorra pushed him away, annoyed.

He held his hand out for his backpack, and the big chested girl gave it to him wordlessly, still staring at Szayel with wide eyes, as was her friend. Without so much as a thank you, he slammed the door in their face and turned to glare at Szayel. "Out," he commanded. He didn't know why he had closed the door in the first place.

"You're so mean!" Szayel whined playfully. However, he knew he was pushing his luck by staying and did what he was told, but not without skimming his hand over the other's backside, to which Ulquiorra simply turned and stared, not at all surprised.

Once outside, Szayel watched the two girls walk down the street, the redhead glancing back over her shoulder and blushing when she realized she had been caught and turning back around quickly. His eyes narrowed. He had a feeling that girl was going to cause trouble for him. He would _not_ have anyone else laying a hand on what was his, and Ulquiorra _was_ his, whether he knew it or not.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Woo! Chapter two: finished. Sorry it took so long, but I needed time to make sure that I didn't rush this chapter...and I think I still did that anyway *sigh*. But I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. :)**

**Reviews are greatly appriciated.**


	3. Author's Note

Ok, for all you people that decide to just review to complain, stop it. I don't really care it's MY story and I'll do whatever I want with it. If you don't like it, then you don't have to read it. I couldn't care less about losing readers because I write it for fun and not to please you. And a little FYI: Homophobes can stay away from any story of mine. Don't review just to flame. Not only does it piss me off, but it's likely to get you personally cussed out as well. So FUCK YOU.


	4. Chapter 3

**EDIT: For those of you that read the chapter while it was up for maybe half a day before I took it down, it was because I didn't like the way it turned out, and for you to fully understand chapter four, you will need to reread chapter three because I changed it quite a bit toward the end.**

**Before the chapter starts, I'd like to give a special thanks to amber3392 and lilcherrydrop. They both gave me back my confidence, and taught me how to handle my little flamers. Thanks. I love you guys. Really. You're, like, my new best friends now. ^~^ And I know some of you are wondering why the hell Ulquiorra lets Szayel molest him the way he does. Worry not; the answer shall be given in this chapter. Just so you know, you're going to fucking hate Aizen in this chapter—and probably me too. V_V I've marked that spot with a warning though, so those of you that don't want to read it, you don't have to.**

**Warnings for this chapter: **yaoi (as always xD), smutty rape-ish (oral), cursing, physical abuse, attempted suicide, and blood (sorry, this is gonna be a rather dark chapter, folks, and I apologize for what happens to some of the characters; torturing the characters is what I do best)

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Bleach, for if I did, Grimm, Nnoi, and Ulqui would be alive. But I shall eventually steal them from Tite Kubo -_- . You just wait.

**Chapter Three**

"You have _got _to be kidding me."

Tatsuki shook her head, a slightly triumphant look on her face. "Nope, saw it with my own eyes."

Nnoitora glanced up with a grin. It kind of reminded Tatsuki of how a dog's ears would perk up when the heard something that caught their interest. However, the grin, _that_ she was more than a bit wary about. "What did ya see with yer own eyes?" he waggled his brows suggestively, causing the spiky-haired girl to blush and sputter.

"I didn't—they weren't—God, you freaking pervert!" She stomped away to the bathroom, where she hid until she was positive her face returned to its normal color.

Everyone watched her go before turning their curious gazes to Orihime, who had suddenly become interested in the frayed hem of her skirt, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, since the conversation had begun. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, searching for an explanation that she wasn't ready to give. After all, it was none of her business what went on in someone else's home.

Rangiku puffed out an overdramatic sigh. "Why is it—" she began, earning a unanimous groan from her friends. "Oh shut up—why is it that every time I go after a boy that's five times as hot as the usual, he either turns out to be gay or taken—or both?" She glanced pointedly at Ichigo and Grimmjow, who both coughed self-consciously and looked away. A long time ago, back in their very first year of high school, Rangiku had made her play at both of them. Both of them had turned out to be taken, and it wasn't until she caught them holding hands at the nearby movie theater that she'd realized they were gay. She'd complained about it for months.

"So little Ulqui Bitch bats for our team," Grimmjow grumbled. "Wonderful—ow, what was that for?" He rubbed the sore spot where he had been punched by his rather irritated boyfriend.

"Don't call him that," Ichigo scolded. "And what's so wrong about him being gay—besides Rangiku not being able to seduce yet another guy?" He dodged the pillow that was thrown at his head.

Instead of answering, Grimmjow cursed under his breath and wriggled his way to the floor, laying his head in his lover's lap. He sighed in contentment when Ichigo began to pull his long, thin fingers through his hair. Rangiku scowled as the exchange brought back rather unpleasant memories and stomped off to the kitchen, grumbling something about preparing the snacks.

Orihime curled up on the couch, wrapping her arms around her legs. She didn't know why, but for some reason, she didn't believe that Ulquiorra was gay.

* * *

><p>Ulquiorra stomped back up the stairs to his room, tossing his backpack onto his desk and flopping down on his bed. He nearly growled in annoyance when his father poked his head into his room to tell him that dinner was ready and that he shouldn't make so much noise. As if he really cared how much noise he was making; he was pissed, and he'd make as much noise as he wanted, damn it. He softened a bit when his mother came and did the same thing her husband had, sans the part about making too much noise. "Coming," he grumbled.<p>

Dinner, for the most part, was a silent event. The only form of talking had been when his mother had asked him where Szayel went, to which he'd curtly answered, "Home" before violently shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. His father had raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on his son's rather hostile behavior.

After they'd eaten their fill, Ulquiorra jumped up an set to work clearing the table and putting away the food, loading the dishwasher with all of the dishes that would fit. He needed to get done quickly so that he could shower and get at least two hours of sleep before his parents inevitably started fighting again.

"Oh, Ulquiorra, sweetie, I was going to do the dishes," his mother piped up from the table, cutting across whatever her husband had been about to say.

The pale teen didn't turn away from the pot he was scrubbing. "You cooked; you shouldn't have to clean the kitchen too," he mumbled.

"Your father can handle it."

Even if he hadn't glanced up and seen the reflection in the window, Ulquiorra could picture the irritated frown on his father's face at being volunteered for something he hadn't asked for. To be honest, he'd be pretty pissed, too, if that had happened to him. He turned and watched his father for a signal of confirmation or refusal, receiving the first.

He dropped the pot back into the water, splattering himself with soap and dishwater, and quickly fled to the bathroom; he needed some time to himself. Once inside the safety of the room—he wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of bleach; his mother had just cleaned the bathroom—he pressed his back against the wall and sank to the floor, reaching up and locking the door as an afterthought. He did not, however, turn on the light. He wanted the darkness, needed it, actually. What was about to happen was not going to be pretty.

….

_Ulquiorra curled up into a ball on the side of the river, glaring at his reflection in the clear depths of the water, scowling when his unwanted companion plopped down next to him. He had no idea why Szayel had followed him, but it was beginning to piss him off; didn't the pink-haired annoyance have anything else to do? Apparently not. "Why are you here, Szayel?" he demanded. "I believe I told you before to leave me the hell alone."_

_Szayel just laughed loudly, otherwise disregarding the rude words. "You should really be nicer to me, Ulquiorra," he whispered, a slight leer to his expression._

_Ulquiorra turned to him, the "and if I don't?" etched into every plane of his expressionless, snowy-white face. He stared briefly before standing and walking a few feet away only to sit down again when he felt he was a safe enough distance away. The sound of Szayel's laughter starting up again made him want to punch something—preferably the bespeckled teen to his right._

_He didn't know why, but ever since that first day they'd met seven years ago, Szayel had been stuck to his side like glue, no matter how many times he'd tried to shake off and dislodge him. He had no clue how he endured it everyday, coming home to see the pest lounging comfortably across his bed or scoffing at the "horrid channels" on his television in his living room. He was bewildered to how he'd refrained from punching the source of so many of his problems in the face._

_Suddenly, lips were at his ear, cool breath tickling the sensitive skin. "You want so badly to hit me right now, don't you?" Szayel asked mockingly._

"_What makes you think I won't?" Ulquiorra inquired coolly._

_A low chuckle rumbled in his ear, more breaths, even colder now, blowing across his skin. "That wouldn't turn out so well for you."_

_Ulquiorra stiffened and green locked with gold as the two studied each other. After a moment, Szayel raised a brow._

"_I don't think you understand what I'm saying," he said. "I don't mean that as a challenge; you would most definitely win in a fight with me. What I mean is, my father values my opinion and my well-being very highly, and if I were to tell him that the son of the man that owns a business that depends on my family greatly had hit me…how do you think that would turn out for you, especially given your father's tendency to violence?"_

_Ulquiorra was silent. Szayel was right in every form. His physical being, and maybe even his life, were on the line in a situation like this. Szayel had his hands tied, and there was nothing he could do about it._

….

He let out a deep breath before his memory assaulted him again.

….

**_[WARNING: Physical abuse up ahead; read with caution and continue at the end of the italics]_**

_His father was angry, that much was clear. He didn't exactly remember what he'd done, but he knew he was in trouble. He sat on the floor, twiddling his thumbs as his father contemplated him from his favorite chair in his study. His father was sitting with his hand on his cheek, his chesnut hair slicked back and face devoid of his glasses. Ulquiorra called it the look of death. He couldn't bring himself to meet the brown eyes he could feel burning a hole in his head._

_"Ulquiorra," the deep voice rang out in the empty room. Ulquiorra merely whimpered in acknowlegement. "I believe you are aware of how upset I am with you." The raven nodded, still staring at the bleached white carpet._

_Ulquiorra knew this had something to do with school; it was the only place that he was allowed any (though not very much) room for mishaps. All he needed to figure out now was _what_ about school that he'd messed up on. He got his answer when he heard a rustling of paper and glanced up to see a heavy, yellow sheet of paper in his father's hand, and his heart sank. His report card._

_His father's eyes narrowed. "Now, come here and tell me what this letter is here," he said, pointing to a specific spot on the paper._

_The pale boy that was no more than twelve stood, gulping, before shuffling over to his calm-looking father. He glanced timidly at his report card. "B," he mumbled._

_"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."_

_"It's a B," he said a bit louder._

_"Exactly," the older male hissed. "And do I, Sousuke Aizen, allow B's in my house?"_

_"No, sir."_

_"Then would you kindly explain why it is there?"_

_There was a long pause. Ulquiorra wasn't sure whether or not it would be safer to answer that question, but he didn't get the chance to find out as a large, heavy hand collided with his face, knocking him off his feet with the force of it. Tears sprang to his eyes and his cheek stung. Before he could recover, he was being kicked in the gut, and heard as well as felt his ribs crack. He coughed, blood spattering on the once-spotless carpet. And then he was lifted off the ground and thrown into the wall; the mirror hanging from it fell and shattered, the broken glass cutting across his scalp and wherever else it touched his skin. He coughed again, more blood spewing from his lips._

_His vision was getting blurry from the blood loss, but he tried to stand anyway. However, before he could accomplish his goal, he felt something slam down on his leg. He heard the sickening snap before he felt the pain, and when he did feel it, he screamed, a scream so high-pitched it caused him to go hoarse._

_So much pain...so much blood...he couldn't...everything was fuzzy..._

_Darkness._

….

Ulquiorra shook his head violently, trying to erase the memory taunting him. He couldn't take this. He just couldn't.

With shaky legs, he stood and reached for the light. He spotted his razor, and suddenly, a brilliant idea wormed its way into his brain. He lunged for it, his breathing becoming erratic as he struggled to get the blade out, cutting his fingers along the way, not that it mattered. He brought the sharp metal to his skin, pausing for a moment.

And then the memories attacked again, and before he could give it anymore thought, he ripped the blade across his wrist, reveling in the release, the pain. He couldn't stop there. He did it again. And again. And again. He switched to the other wrist. Slice. Slice.

His blood dripped onto the immaculate white tile, staining it crimson. He sank to the floor with it, his hand raised feebly to turn out the light as he went.

As he curled up in the puddle of his quickly pooling blood, he could hear the sounds of fighting, of his mother pleading for forgiveness, pleading for it to stop, begging for mercy, trying to escape the pain.

And then he was swallowed by oblivion.

* * *

><p>Szayel was lying across his bed with a pout, idly torturing a cockroach with his lighter. That girl was going to cause a problem for him, a problem that only added to the ones he was already having, with him getting Ulquiorra. Of course it pleased him that she seemed to think that he and Ulquiorra were mates, but he wanted it to happen in reality.<p>

He was pulled out of his sulking—as well as the torturing of the poor insect—by the sound of sirens. They were coming closer and closer. He sniffed at the air; he didn't smell smoke. Maybe someone's house had gotten broken into or someone had gotten injured.

It was that thought that propelled him out of bed, but he didn't get a chance to run to the door, as it had already been flung open by his mother.

"It's Ulquiorra," she gasped. "He just tried to commit suicide."

Before he knew it was happening, Szayel was out of his room and making a mad dash for the stairs and then the door and then finally the ambulance blaring its lights and sirens across the street. He watched in horror as they rolled his future lover out of the house on a stretcher, his mother sobbing in the doorway, and her husband behind her with a tense arm around his shoulders. He didn't know why, but for some reason, it seemed more restraining than comforting, as if he was forbidding her to leave.

"Hey, kid, you can't be here," one of the EMTs said nudging him away with a raised arm.

"No," Ulquiorra's mother called out, "let him go with Ulquiorra; they're best friends, and he'll need someone there when he wakes up."

The EMT eyed him for a while, as if testing his worthiness, before nodding and helping him into the cab.

Once inside and seated, Szayel immediately grabbed hold of his hand, noticing how cold and pale it was, which was saying something, considering how pale the raven was normally. He brought it to his lips. "You'd better not die on me, Ulquiorra Shiffar," he whispered. "Don't die."

* * *

><p>"Right foot yellow!"<p>

"Aw man! I can't reach that far!"

"Then, it sounds like ya loose, Strawberry."

Ichigo glared at the scrawny raven. "Fuck you, Nnoi."

"I don't think so!" Shinji called over the spinner in his hands. "Grimm, you'd better watch him; he sounds like a frisky one." He smirked and winked, elicting a wide, lecherous grin from Grimmjow, who bent over his boyfriend and grabbed his ass, causing him to yelp in surprise and fall.

"Ha!" Nnoitora shouted. "I win again!"

Ichigo sat up, rubbing his now-sore rear and shoving Grimmjow half-heartedly. "That's because you're so damn long," he grumbled.

"I don't see what my length has to do with playin' Twister."

Ichigo opened his mouth to point out how stupid that comment was, but then he understood what the tall teen had meant and scowled. "Pervert," scoffed under his breath.

Everyone else in the room, who had either already lost or hadn't wanted to play and lose to Nnoitora _again_ laughed at Ichigo's tomato red blush.

It stopped abruptly when there was a strange noise that no one could really place. It began far away, and then, just as the volume peaked, it was gone.

Shinji, who had been leaning out the open window to be nosy and allow the cool air to filter in (Orihime's air conditioner had gone out a few weeks back, and maintenance had yet to come and fix it), turned back to the group. "Ambulance," he said simply.

Then there was a buzzing sound and all heads turned in Ichigo's direction as he fished his phone out of his pocket—with much difficulty, due to his tight skinny jeans—and flipped it open, glancing at the Caller ID. "Hey, Dad, what's up?" He paused for a while, his face hardening into a serious mask that his friends recognized well. "I'll be right there." He snapped his phone shut, and met each of the curious eyes.

"My dad needs me at the hospital for some extra hands, since they're short on staff today." He glanced briefly at Rangiku and Orihime before continuing. "It seems that Ulquiorra is being rushed to the hospital for attempting to commit suicide."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So yeah, so much plot and angst! (not really, but still) It was easier than I thought it would be to write this chapter. Once again, I apologize for abusing Ulquiorra. *sad face***


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Ulquiorra grumbled in his sleep, his head rolling over almost drunkenly. Consciousness was pulling insistently at his brain, and despite his valiant effort to keep it at bay, it was winning the battle. Something tugged at his mind, a memory trying to be recognized. The first thing he remembered was red. It was oozing onto a white surface, staining it, painting it as it went. _Blood_, he thought. The image reminded him of blood.

And then the previous night's events flashed before his eyes—the cool feel of the blade on his pale skin, the sweet release of the pain on his wrists, the metallic smell of the blood filling his nostrils…his mother's horrified face as she walked in and saw him…and then the darkness that followed.

Wide green eyes snapped open, only to flutter closed once more when the bright fluorescent lights wreaked havoc on his vision.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_What _is_ that,_ Ulquiorra thought to himself in annoyance. His eyes peaked open once more, his view blurred slightly. All he could see was a jumble of colors: orange, pink, and yellow, white, blue…. Where was he? Something warm and wet fell onto his cheek, and he reached up to wipe it away—or at least he tried. His hands were being held in a vice-tight grip by something he couldn't see. One was warm and welcoming, the other cold and more like a restraint.

Slowly, his eyes came into focus, the colors morphing into shapes…hair…faces. His eyes first narrowed in on large, watery gray eyes, red and puffy from tears. They were familiar, of course; she was that girl from his school…her name, what was her name? He didn't dwell too much on it. His eyes then flickered to surprisingly warm golden eyes, also rimmed with red, but completely dry. Szayel.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Will someone please turn that off?" he said, his sharp tone marred by his hoarse throat. One of his restraints—the warm one—squeezed his hand, and he jerked it away from the unfamiliar touch. He heard a small sob, but was too preoccupied with the new addition to his arm to care much about it. He reached up, tugging at the needle sticking out of his arm until a cool hand slapped it away.

"Stop that," Szayel scolded quietly.

Vivid green locked with liquid gold as the two stared each other down in silence. He could feel the air around them thicken with tension, sparking with emotion—hatred on Ulquiorra's part, lust-darkened love on Szayel's.

"Tch, why don't ya two just make-out already?" an irritated voice griped from across the room.

The pale raven surveyed the room around him for the first time, noticing that he was in a hospital room—one filled with more people than he had ever talked to in his life; the girl's—he couldn't remember her name for the life of him, if she had ever told him in the first place—friends were all there, though he hadn't spoken a single word to them since they'd met. They all had looks of relief on their faces, save for the one glaring out the window, his mouth set in an irked scowl.

"Nnoi, be nice," the blonde standing next to him hissed, pinching his arm and earning glare before Nnoitora swept out of the room.

The skinny blonde rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him," he said, waving his hand ineffectually in the air around his head. "He just gets tense in hospitals." And with that, he jogged out the door after the other.

Ulquiorra watched him go, his expression bored, before turning back to Szayel. "Why are you here?"

Szayel, who had also been watching the blonde, looked back to him with a slightly annoyed expression, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. "Why wouldn't I be here? You know how I feel about you."

Ulquiorra acted as if the pink haired teen hadn't spoken and turned to the redhead on his left. "Why are you here?" he repeated to her.

She blinked, and he could tell that his question had caught her off guard. "Oh, well, I…um…," she began, scratching her temple nervously at Ulquiorra's unrelenting stare. "I just heard about what happened and…I was worried so…."

"You were holding my hand," Ulquiorra interrupted. "Why?"

His answer came from behind her, loud, clear and irritated. "Because she's a nice person that worries when people get hurt. Is that a bad thing?"

He stretched his neck, matching the face with the voice: Ichigo Kurosaki. "I don't recall saying that it was a bad thing," he said calmly. "I just wanted to know why."

Ichigo scowled and looked away, but didn't say anything else, though Ulquiorra could tell he wanted to. He'd had no idea the redhead was so fiery. Grimmjow, who was standing next to him, pulled him close and buried his face in his hair, exhaling gently. They began talking to each other in hushed voices. Ichigo seemed appeased enough, but Ulquiorra looked away, not being able to stand the sweet, gentle atmosphere that surrounded them.

The door opened, and a tall, brawny man with jet black hair and scruffy stubble walked in. Judging by his white coat, Ulquiorra assumed he was a doctor. He glanced around the room before his eyes landed on Ichigo, still swaddled in his lover's arms. His eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Ichigo, would you please take your friends and vacate the room?"

Ichigo immediately pushed himself out of Grimmjow's arms, an embarrassed blush and a look of horror decorating his face. "S-sure, Dad," he stammered, quickly gathering his friends and scurrying from the room. Judging by the thin line of Dr. Kurosaki's lips and the "We'll talk about this later" expression on his face, Ulquiorra could tell that the man had had no idea that his son was gay—nor was he exactly happy about finding out.

He irrationally found himself sympathizing with Ichigo. He scowled and shook his head, dispelling the disturbing emotion. Ulquiorra Shiffar did not feel sympathy for _anyone_, especially strangers.

"So," Dr. Kurosaki said, taking the seat that the weeping, big-chested girl had vacated, "how long have you been suicidal?"

Ulquiorra was slightly surprised by the bluntness of the question and the serious, unfazed gaze of the older man. He felt the emotion flicker across his face for the shortest of moments—much to his annoyance—before he composed himself again. "What leads you to believe that I am suicidal?" he asked serenely. "I could have been held down while someone else cut me."

The doctor raised a bushy brow, not believing this alternative one bit. "If that's what happened, then you obviously didn't put up much of a fight, seeing as how there were no bruises on any part of your body…. However…." He glanced down at his clipboard, flipping a page or two. "We did find a number of old scars scattered over your skin." He looked up into Ulquiorra's eyes, holding his stare as he spoke. "So either you play some sports without using proper protection…or this isn't your first attempt to kill yourself, though it is one of your most successful."

Ulquiorra snorted before he had a chance to stop himself, turning away to look out the window where the moon was shining down on him, seeming to mock him with its brightness. He knew where those scars had come from, and they certainly weren't from attempted suicides. "I've never tried to kill myself."

"Aside from this time, you mean."

"Tch."

Dr. Kurosaki sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He'd never thought the day would come when he'd meet a teenager more difficult than his own, but it seemed that day had arrived. "Look," he said, his voice much softer now, "I don't know what's going on exactly, but maybe you should talk to someone about these problems that lead you to do this. Your parents, for example." It didn't escape his notice that Ulquiorra stiffened at the mention of his parents, and his brow furrowed as he wondered what the story was behind that reaction. Instead of asking all the questions he had on the tip of his tongue, he forced a different set of words out. "As you know, I'm a parent as well—not just of Ichigo, but of his two little twin sisters as well—and I know that if my children had done something like this, I'd want to know what was causing it."

Ulquiorra felt his chest throb painfully, and he grabbed at it, confused by the odd sensation. When that didn't stop it, he curled in on himself. Once again, his efforts were futile.

Startled, Dr. Kurosaki instinctively reached out to help, only to pull back when the pale teen jerked away. He glanced anxiously at the monitor, noticing the increased heart rate. "Ulquiorra!" He seized the other by the arm and yanked him around to face him. He saw the confusion and fear in his eyes, and his panic evaporated as his mind switched back into medical mode. "Where does it hurt?" he asked calmly.

"My chest," the pale teen whispered.

Dr. Kurosaki pulled Ulquiorra's hand away, searching for blood. He looked back up into wide, frightened green eyes, his expression grim. "I don't see anything, but I'm going to have to lift up your gown to be sure there's no internal bleeding." He received an approving nod, and he lifted the gown, seeing nothing but a large, gothic four tattooed on the skin. It stood in striking contrast to his pasty skin tone. "Everything seems fine to me," he muttered. "Does it still hurt?" Once again, he got a nod. He sighed, knowing exactly what it was the teen was feeling. "It won't heal until you find someone to talk to about this. Do you have any friends that you trust enough to confide in?"

Ulquiorra shook his head, curling up even more.

"What about that pink-headed kid that was holding your hand?"

The raven teen scowled, offended that he was even considered to be friends with that menace.

"Or not," the doctor said, scratching his head in frustration. "Well, you need friends, Ulquiorra. They're the medicine of life…the medicine you need right now."

Ulquiorra snorted and turned back to face the wall. He didn't need friends. What he needed was for everyone to leave him alone.

* * *

><p>He was thankful that all of the lights in his house were off when Sado, a large, Hispanic friend of Orihime's—he'd finally learned her name—dropped him and Szayel off on their street. He wasn't sure that he had it in him to face his father's cold anger or his mother's concerned tears. He'd seen enough tears that night.<p>

He thanked Sado for the ride, ignoring Szayel's goodnight, before making his way to his door and fishing around for his key. He cursed under his breath when he found it wasn't in his pocket; he'd left it on his nightstand. He sighed and looked around.

Sado was still there, watching him. He'd never understood why people sat there, wasting gas, just for people to get in their houses. It was all so stupid and meaningless.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the car as he tried to decide what to do, but Sado finally rolled down the window and leaned toward him. "Locked out?" His voice was quiet, but the deep timbre still carried in the dead silence that was midnight.

Ulquiorra nodded.

"Well, you can stay with me tonight if you want. I live alone, so it's not like you'd be a bother to anyone." Ulquiorra was surprised that he wasn't asked why he didn't just call his parents or ring the doorbell. Sado just…_knew_. Was this what it was like to have a friend?

Ulquiorra took his time getting to the passenger side door, but the large teen didn't look the least bit impatient with his slow pace. As he buckled his seatbelt, another thought occurred to him.

"Actually, I want you to take me somewhere else first."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you should be here?"<p>

Ulquiorra glanced at Sado as he slammed the car door closed. He didn't miss that he'd said _you_ and not _we_. "Are you implying that you're over the age of twenty-one?"

Sado shook his head, still staring at the entrance where a large, bespeckled bouncer was standing. "Not at all. I'm only sixteen."

"And I'm seventeen," Ulquiorra answered. "I'm familiar with the owner, so we should be fine." Without saying another word, he began toward the door.

"What a small world," Sado replied. "So am I."

Ulquiorra soon found out that the burly Hispanic wasn't lying when he was greeted loudly at the door by more than half of the people populating the club. He hadn't struck Ulquiorra as much of a talker, so it puzzled him that he was so well known.

"Where's Urahara?" Ulquiorra asked Renji, the redheaded bartender with a voice loud enough to rival bullhorn.

"Did someone call for me?"

To his embarrassment, Ulquiorra found himself jumping back in surprise as the blonde club owner literally popped up from under the bar. "I did," he said, wiping some nonexistent dust off of his black T-Shirt.

"Mmm, and what can I do for ya, Mr. Shiffar?" Urahara asked, hiding behind his fan that never seemed to leave his person.

"I need to speak with Kenpachi."

Blonde eyebrows rose as Urahara looked Ulquiorra over, the look far from cheerful. He snapped the fan closed. "Are you sure about this?"

Ulquiorra nodded while Sado looked on with a perplexed expression.

"Alright then, follow me."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry, I know this one is way shorter than what I usually write, but that's just because I wanted to piss you off with my mean cliffhanger. xD I would appreciate it very much if you didn't kill me. I also apologize for how long it took me to get this out (especially since it's so short) but I've been uber busy with last-minute summer assignments (which is still not done) as well as other stories. Sorry!<strong>

**Review! Tell me what you thought of this effed up chapter that didn't really turn out the way I wanted.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been insanely busy and I'm surprised I got this up now with finals and everything going on. I should be able to update more often over the break since I won't have anything better to do! I apologize in advance if this chapter isn't exactly what you expected, but I still like it. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Two hours later, Ulquiorra emerged from the back room where Urahara had led him, messing with the bandages on his cheeks. Renji glanced up at him with a smirk as he sat down in front of him.

"Never thought ya had it in ya to do something that drastic," he said as he wiped down the sticky bar with a wet rag.

Ignoring the slightly insulting comment, Ulquiorra glanced around the nearly-empty club, looking for Sado.

"Your friend went back there too," Renji said, noticing what he was doing. "I'm surprised you didn't run into him." When he didn't receive an answer, he pursed his lips and decided on a new way to get the silent teen to talk. "So what did ya get?"

The raven paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not he wanted to defy Kenpachi's rules and deciding that he didn't really give a damn. He pulled away one of the bandages and winced slightly as the adhesive pulled at his sensitive skin.

Renji let out a low whistle. "That looks like it hurt like hell. I'm guessing the other one is the same?" he asked, nodding toward the identical bandage on his other cheek. Ulquiorra nodded. "I don't know why, but for some reason, you didn't strike me as the tattoo type." His reply was a simple shrug. "Still not gonna talk, eh?"

The pale teen shook his head and stuck out his tongue, making Renji do a double take.

"Holy shit, a tongue ring too?" He chuckled under his breath. "You're going all out with this, aren't you?"

Ulquiorra shrugged again just as Sado emerged from the back room, a bandage stuck securely to his left arm. "You ready to go?" he asked, digging his car keys out of his pocket. His pale companion nodded, and they made for the door, waving goodbye to Renji and Kenpachi, who had stepped out of the back room, his job done for the night.

Just before Ulquiorra stepped over the threshold, he was stopped by a strong grip on his upper arm. He turned his head slightly and stared at Urahara, who was looking at him with that same displeased expression from earlier.

"I know you didn't just go back there for tattoos and piercings," he murmured, his voice so low that no one else had even the slightest chance of overhearing. "I want you to think long and hard about what you're about to do because once this has started, there's no stopping it."

"I know that," Ulquiorra said, his voice marred by his swollen tongue. He jerked his arm away from the blonde and sauntered out to the car where Sado was now honking at him. He knew exactly what he was getting into, and knowing that it was dangerous and completely irrevocable wasn't going to stop him.

….

When they pulled up to Sado's apartment complex, Ulquiorra found himself wrinkling his nose involuntarily. This place was much smaller than any living quarters he had ever seen, and it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. It was a good thing that Sado had muscle on his side, or else he would have never survived in a place like this. It seemed like the kind of area with high crime rates and homeless people filling at least half of the population.

Sado, catching the scathing look, bristled a bit. "I know it's not much, but at least it's a roof over my head," he defended as he got out of the car.

"I don't think any worse of you for living here," the pale teen assured him, scowling when the Hispanic teen snickered at his voice. "Considering the fact that you're a minor living on your own while you're still in high school…this is quite the accomplishment."

"Thanks."

Once inside, Ulquiorra was thrown a shirt that was more than twice his size and was told that he could have bed, since there wasn't a guest room. To his confusion, Ulquiorra found himself protesting, saying that the couch was more than big enough to hold him, but it was not, however, big enough to hold Sado. They argued for the better part of thirty minutes before the larger teen finally gave in.

After saying their respective goodnights, Ulquiorra stretched himself out on the couch, staring up at the water-damaged ceiling and contemplating what he was about to set in motion.

There were so many ways his plan could go wrong, could backfire. Was it really worth causing all this trouble? After all, if he was caught, it would be his ass. He didn't know how his father would take something like this, but he knew that it wasn't going to be good. He really hoped that Kenpachi was as good as he was made up to be, or else this was going to turn out badly—very badly. As Urahara had said: once this was started, there was no stopping it.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this?"<p>

Ulquiorra glanced over at Sado, his annoyance apparent in every plain of his face. If he hadn't wanted to do this, he wouldn't be doing it, simple as that. His cause was more than worthy, and he knew that this was the only way to get what he wanted. Instead of answering the question that had been repeated since Ulquiorra had first explained the situation—well, part of it anyway—he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When the person answered, he said—without bothering with a greeting—"Are you ready?" After receiving a confirmation, he tapped the _End_ button and slid his phone into his back pocket without another word.

Sado sighed. "I still don't see why you just can't stay with me like you did these last two nights."

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "I've told you why already; now stop whining and get out of the car."

"And exactly why did we park almost a block away?" the burly Mexican asked as he slammed the door shut and locked the car.

Ulquiorra gave him a withering look. "You were so quiet when we first met. I miss that."

"Sorry."

He still couldn't get over how quickly their friendship—it still gave him shivers to think the word to himself—had blossomed over the day they'd spent together. Ulquiorra had found out just about everything there was to know about Sado: where he came from, why he was living on his own, his favorite food, his favorite color…everything. It almost made him feel bad that he had hardly told him anything about himself aside from the simple things, trivial things that just showed who he was on the surface, nothing of substance.

"You remember what to do, right?"

Sado nodded.

….

_Ulquiorra shifted uncomfortably on Ichigo's couch, not meeting any of the curious gazes he could feel burning holes into his pale skin. His hands were beginning to sweat, his heart rate picking up speed, his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he realized, with an indignant scowl, that he was nervous. He'd never been this nervous a day in his life, and the fact that a simple group of classmates were bringing the foreign emotion to the surface was beyond irritating._

"_So…is someone gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" Grimmjow grumbled from the floor at Ichigo's feet, his head resting against his boyfriend's knees._

_Ichigo flicked his lover's ear, whispering a scolding as he did so. He then looked at Sado expectantly; it was him that had called them all together, after all._

_The large brunette cleared his throat, smoothing his shirt self-consciously. It wasn't like all the people in the room—Ichigo, Nnoitora, Tesla, Shinji, Luppi, Tatsuki, Rangiku, Orihime, Toshiro, and Ulquiorra—were strangers, but it was still a bit awkward to have them all staring at him like they were. He stumbled over his words a little before he was able to speak an intelligible sentence. "Well, I called you all because Ulquiorra here"—he motioned to where the teen in question was sitting beside him, his eyes glued to his black-painted fingernails—"is in a serious situation at home and needs a big favor of all of you…if you're willing to help him out."_

"_Of course we will," Orihime piped up immediately, "whatever it is."_

_Rangiku sat up a little straighter in the recliner she taken up occupation in. "It depends on what he's _asking for_," she corrected quietly, but firmly, causing her cousin to deflate a bit and a light pink blush to wash over her cheeks._

_Nnoitora snorted from where he was leaning against the wall next to the TV, his arms folded across his middle. "I don't see why we should," he said, his words clear and harsh. "What has this stuck up little bitch ever done for us?"_

_Shinji slapped him across the arm, reprimanding him for his coarse language even though he silently agreed with his insensitive boyfriend. He glanced around the room, noticing that Ichigo was warring with his desire to help someone in need and his grudge he held against Ulquiorra for that little snip at Orihime at the hospital the other day; Grimmjow seemed as if he'd come to the same conclusion as Nnoitora; Rangiku looked apprehensive, but willing enough; Toshiro had skepticism written all over his boyish features, his eyes fixed intently on the still-silent pale boy running his long finger over his face tattoo; Orihime was still firm in her decision, as was obvious by the obstinate set of her jaw and the rare confident lift to her chin; Tatsuki was chewing on her bottom lip, still making her decision with no sign of coming close to a conclusion; Tesla and Luppi were both at Nnoitora's and Shinji's feet, ignoring the conversation and the accompanying tension, listening to Luppi's iPod and flipping through yet another magazine (Luppi was cooing over a black and purple checkered jacket that he claimed he just _had_ to have while Tesla listened with an amused smirk)._

"_You don't have to decide right away," Ulquiorra assured them quietly, finally speaking up. "Wait until you've heard what it is I need and then decide. But I must ask you to keep everything that I tell you to yourself, whether you decide to help me or not." He raised his head, meeting all the intent, curious gazes with a serene expression. He paused, as if waiting for someone to interrupt. When no one did, he took a deep breath to steady himself and continued. "First of all, I'd like to tell you that you all are the some of the very few people that will ever know about what I am about to tell you—"_

"_How fuckin' touchin'," Nnoitora scoffed, earning a hard stomp on his foot from Shinji._

_Ulquiorra stared at the tall raven for a moment before continuing. "I'm sure you have all probably heard of a man by the name of Sousuke Aizen."_

_There was a collective intake of breath as the tension got much heavier. Tesla and Luppi, no longer able to stay oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere, looked up in confusion, eying their surroundings. Tesla looked to Nnoitora for an explanation, while Luppi looked to Grimmjow. Both of the older teens shook their heads in a "not now" manner. Tesla simply nodded, while Luppi pouted, crossing his arms across his chest childishly._

_Ulquiorra watched the exchange with keen eyes, taking note that Luppi and Grimmjow must have been related somehow, and so were Tesla and Nnoitora. _

"_He's my little brother," Grimmjow muttered, noticing Ulquiorra's stare. "Nnoi and Tesla are cousins, but they're the only family they've got left, so I guess you could say they're kind of like brothers."_

_Nnoitora obviously did not like Ulquiorra knowing his business; he glared at Grimmjow, his lip curling menacingly. Ichigo glared back, putting a protective hand on Grimmjow's head. Shinji, just now catching on to the brawl that was about to break out, put a restraining hand on his lover's chest, shaking his head warningly when Nnoitora turned his glower on him. Nnoitora relaxed immediately. He knew that when it came to Ichigo, Shinji would always choose his best friend over his boyfriend—he may have been able to take Ichigo without a problem, but taking on Ichigo with Shinji fighting along side him was complete suicide, not to mention the fact that Grimmjow would jump in too._

_Deciding that this little scuffle had gone on long enough, Ulquiorra cleared his throat and spoke again. "As I was saying, you all have heard of Sousuke Aizen. Well…he is my father." After the words were out, he glanced out the window, pretending to watch the sun set over the horizon, but he was really using it as an excuse not to look anyone in the eye._

_The silence that followed was full of questions that Ulquiorra wasn't by any means willing to answer._

"_Oh, you poor thing!" Rangiku suddenly exclaimed at the same time Luppi demanded, "Who is Sousuke Aizen?" She rushed over to smother his face in her chest in what she most likely meant to be a hug. "You poor, poor baby," she cooed over and over._

"_Rangiku, no!" Orihime cried, attempting to pry the overenthusiastic woman from the pale boy slowly suffocating under the crushing hug. "He can't breathe!"_

_Rangiku let go quickly, letting a rather dizzy Ulquiorra fall back on the couch cushions. _

"_Who is Sousuke Aizen?" Luppi repeated, sounding very disgruntled that his first attempt had gone completely ignored._

"_Sousuke Aizen is a very dangerous criminal with his hand in more illegal organizations than anyone in history," Shinji answered flatly. "It makes him even more dangerous that he has managed to evade the authorities for so long. He's wanted in nearly every country for more things than you can even begin to imagine."_

_Both Luppi's and Tesla's eyes grew wide as dish plates. "Well, why not call the police?" Luppi scoffed when he recovered, his tone suggesting that Ulquiorra was a fool for not realizing this simple solution._

_Everyone rolled their eyes._

"_Luppi, you idiot," Grimmjow said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Someone as powerful as Sousuke Aizen won't be caught by someone as weak as the local police. I doubt a SWAT team could take him out."_

"_Of course they couldn't," Ulquiorra said. "He has people working for him in that organization…and almost every other government organization as well."_

_Everyone just stared at him, stunned._

"_Anyway," Ulquiorra said, dismissing the side conversation with an aloof wave of his hand, "what I need is help getting away from him." When he received unanimous "are you crazy" looks, he sighed and rephrased. "I mean, I'm running away from home, and I need somewhere where I can lay low for a bit, as well as help getting out after I run home and grab some things I need."_

_He didn't know why, but Grimmjow found himself raising his hand as if he was in school. "If you're trying to hide from him, why are you going back home in the first place?"_

_The pale raven sighed again. "Because there're important things at home that I need for a certain plan of mine," he answered, his voice getting more tired by the word._

_Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"_

_Ulquiorra just eyed him for a moment. "Now really isn't the time to tell you that. Moving on," he continued, talking over Ichigo when he made to protest, "I need three people." He held up three fingers, ticking off the jobs of the people as he said them. "I need someone to drive me up there—actually, that person will have to be Sado, considering the circumstances—another person to pick me up…and someone else to stand in as a decoy for me." He looked around to make sure everyone was following him before answering the silent question in Sado's eyes. "Sado—"_

"_Call me Chad," Sado interrupted._

"_Chad," Ulquiorra started over, "you have to be the one to drive me there because it's highly likely that my father knows that I associate with you." Chad replied with an expression of pure bewilderment, so he elaborated. "There is a good chance that my father has numerous servants of his watching the house—not that he has any reason to—and since you were the one I was with the last night I was at home, it needs to be you that is driving."_

"_Then why do you need someone else to pick you up?" Tatsuki asked._

"_Because the decoy will be going with Chad, while I go with whoever is picking me up—who, by the way, will need to park a good four blocks away so they will not be seen. Now, I would like to let all of you know, that it is very likely that I will not be staying with any of you, so as not to put any of you in any more danger than is absolutely necessary." At this everyone nodded. "Now, that is about all that needs to be said. You may make your decisions now."_

_Immediately, Ichigo shot up out of his seat. "I'll be the decoy," he said._

_Ulquiorra shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. When the redheaded teen looked outraged, he explained. "Number one: you're far too bulky to pass as me. Number two: you're too tall. And number three: you're hair is orange and too spiky to hide under the hood of a jacket."_

_Ichigo flopped back into his seat, deflated._

"_I'll be the decoy," Tatsuki interjected quietly._

_Ulquiorra looked her over, silently approving before saying, "Are you sure? This is probably going to be very dangerous."_

_Her brow furrowed. "Dangerous how?"_

_The pale raven took another deep breath and said, "Because you and Chad…are mostly likely—no definitely—going to be followed."_

….

"What are you going to say when you're caught by my father's 'employees'?" Ulquiorra suddenly fired at his companion.

Chad sighed. "This again?"

"Yes, again; I want to make sure this goes by perfectly."

"I'm a friend of Ulquiorra's, and even though I haven't known him all that long, I'd trust him with my life."

Ulquiorra paused his walking. "That was something new," he commented. "Would you really trust me with your life?"

Chad nodded. "Of course I would. You're a pretty trustworthy guy."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "Not everyone is as trustworthy as they seem," he whispered. It was so low that it left Chad wondering if he had really said anything at all. "Damn," he muttered. At the quizzical look he received from Chad, he said, "I didn't think to run over it again with Tesla."

Chad just shook his head. "There's no need; Tesla and Nnoitora come from a life on the streets. They know when to play their part, and they know how to survive in the toughest of situations—even if they're staring down the barrel of a gun." He glanced at Ulquiorra, who had gone silent in wonder. "Trust me, Tesla's lines will be perfect. You couldn't have picked a better decoy."

….

"_I don't really know him that well, but my friends are—"_

"_Stop," Ulquiorra commanded, his head falling into his hands. They'd already been at this for about an hour, and Tatsuki still couldn't get her lines right. It was really starting to get on his nerves. Was this girl some kind of idiot? He looked back up at the girl in question with tired eyes. "You're not listening to my instructions."_

_Tatsuki's brow twitched angrily. "I am!"_

"_If you were, we wouldn't still be doing this." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands folded under his chin. "By saying that you're not a friend of mine"—he shuddered internally at the unfamiliar word—"you're saying that you're useless, and they'll kill you. However, if you go even the slightest bit overboard with your lies, they will deem you both a nuisance and useless, and they'll kill you. Do you understand even one bit of what I'm saying to you?"_

_Tatsuki glared balefully at him. "Of course I do!" She huffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not stupid," she added under her breath._

_Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Really? You could have fooled me."_

_This time, Ichigo stood, glowering at the offending teenager. "Hey, hold on a sec," he said through his teeth. "Who do you think you are, talking to Tatsuki like that?"_

_Ulquiorra simply ignored him, but Tatsuki waved her hot-headed friend away. "Ichigo," she said softly, "it's alright; I understand why he's being such a jerk." She twiddled her thumbs nervously. "I'm really the only one that could do this, but I keep screwing up. He's just trying to keep me alive is all."_

"_Yeah, but he doesn't have to be such an asshole about it," Ichigo grumbled._

_Ulquiorra let his eyes wander around the room as the two continued to talk. He paused when his eyes landed on Tesla._

_Tesla, a sandy blonde with trusting gray eyes, seemed to feel his gaze, and glanced up to meet vivid green eyes. The two held each other's stare for a moment before Ulquiorra began to look him over, a plan forming in his head._

"_Actually," he said, talking over whatever Ichigo had been about to say, "Tesla would also fit the part quite nicely if we put a hat and a hood on his head. He would probably fit better than you, Tatsuki."_

_All eyes turned on the blonde, who averted his eyes to the dingy carpet, embarrassed to have so many eyes on him at once. Nnoitora kicked his little cousin, and Tesla glanced up into a slanted violet eye._

"_So?" Nnoitora said, vexed by the silence._

_Tesla blushed. "Do…do you want me to do it?"_

_Nnoitora rolled his eye and bent down, dragging Tesla to his feet by the scruff of his neck. "Do ya wanna do it, Tes? It's up ta you, not me."_

_Tesla stared down at his feet, twiddling his thumbs nervously. Luppi nudged him in the shin from where he was still lounging on the floor._

"_No one's forcing you into this, you know," he assured his friend. "Tatsuki can still do it and everything will be just fine."_

_Tesla looked up and locked eyes with Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra stared right back at him, and before Tesla knew it was happening, he opened his mouth and said, "I'll do it."_

….

They reached the fringe of bushes at the end of Ulquiorra's street, and he held out a hand to let Chad know to stop. "Duck down behind those bushes," he muttered, his eyes roaming for anyone that might be watching. "Text Tesla and tell him to get down here." After checking to make sure that Chad was sufficiently hidden, he jogged up to his house and began climbing the tree nearest his bedroom window.

His brow furrowed when he noticed it was already open. He cautiously stuck his head through the window and scowled at what he found. There was a figure snuggled into his bed sheets, snoring softly. Ulquiorra had a pretty good idea who it was, and he really didn't feel like dealing with him tonight. So instead of shaking the person awake, he set to stuffing his bag with anything that would fit. Clothes weren't an issue; he could always buy more. But things of sentimental value (his only picture of his real father, his picture of him and his best friend from eight years ago, his old teddy bear he'd had since he was born) were the first to go into the bag, along with a few pairs of clean underwear.

There was a rustling sound as the person on the bed stirred.

As was expected, the first identifying feature—the only one needed, actually—revealed was a head full of bubble-gum pink hair. He yawned, and then sleepy golden eyes found Ulquiorra. Szayel's eyes widened in shock and then began to fill with tears. As if that wasn't surprising enough, he then leapt from the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Ulquiorra's neck.

"Oh, I was so w-worried!" he sobbed.

Unaccustomed to such actions, Ulquiorra blushed, his brilliant green eyes confused and lost. "What were you doing in my bed, Szayel?"

Szayel pulled back, his eyes still red and puffy. "I…I got lonely. Ilforte left three nights ago and didn't come back. So I came over to ask if you'd seen him, but your mom said you hadn't come home either, and then I started worrying even more. But I knew you'd come home sometime, so thought I'd wait here for you." It was all said in a rush, and for a moment, Ulquiorra just stared at him, slowing it down in his head.

Then he sighed and put a finger to his lips, silently telling Szayel to be quiet.

Szayel's brows furrowed. "What? But…."

Ulquiorra shook his head and clamped his free had down on the other's mouth. Though he was obviously still confused, Szayel nodded.

Then Ulquiorra went back to his packing. It was already dangerous coming back here in the first place. This whole room could be bugged, and he had no way of being sure. If it was, he was screwed.

* * *

><p>Sousuke Aizen woke to the sound of his ringing cell phone. He gently pushed his wife away, careful not to wake her. He glanced at the number and immediately connected the call. "What is it, Yammy?"<p>

"He's here."

Aizen smirked. Either that kid was an idiot, or he had some nerve. Without a saying another word, he hung up and rolled out of bed, pulling on his pajama pants and a shirt. He glanced back down at the bed and wasn't surprised to see saddened, bright green eyes staring back at him.

"Sousuke," his wife whispered. "Where are you going?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," he simply replied, making his way toward the door.

"But—"

"Do you remember what I told you before we got married?"

The woman on the bed suddenly lost the will to look into her husband's eyes. "You said, 'Remember why we're doing this. Don't make the mistake of trusting me, especially by falling in love with me.'," she whispered bitterly.

Aizen nodded. "Exactly. I warned you, but you didn't listen. The strife you're going through now is because of your own stupidity."

And with that, he once again left his wife to her own misery.

* * *

><p>Ulquiorra glanced around the room, making sure he had everything he needed. Szayel remained silent, watching keenly, as if by doing so he could uncover some kind of explanation. No such luck. When he was satisfied, the pale raven turned back to his visitor, nodding toward the window. Thankfully, Szayel didn't ask any further questions and moved silently toward the window.<p>

"Don't you know it's rude to come into someone's house without speaking to them first?" a cool voice inquired from the open door behind them.

Ulquiorra didn't have to turn around to know that he was in deep shit.


End file.
